Strange Skies
by Anne Kerouac
Summary: A night gone awry changes everything for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Thank Merlin only one of them remembers what exactly had happened that night.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"We were made fools of.  
And the scent of mock orange  
drifts through the window."

—Louise Glück

* * *

It was as though he had not heard her at all. She did not need him, Draco Malfoy, to see this—any of this. Instead, he just stood there, watching her small, naked form. Small. Hermione Granger had never felt so small after tonight, how Ron had just left that way after realizing what he had done wrong. What _they _had done wrong.

Maybe it had slipped her mind that she and Ron had decided to end things for good, that they decided dating would just serve detrimental to their relationship as best friends in the long run. But the moment his lips found home on hers, everything seemed trivial. What was right and what was wrong did not seem to matter.

* * *

_"I want you, Hermione."_

_"Ron. You smell like alcohol. The feeling is mutual, but I don't think we should be doing this here. I-it's not very sanitary is it?"_

_"Come on, you look perfect. I know you want this as much as I do."_

_"No, Ron. Not tonigh—wait! Stop! What are you do—Ron, please, for the love of—oh. Oh."_

_"Does this feel good, Hermione? Fuck, you're so w—"_

_"Y-yes. Ah. But not down there. Go up. Just. Stay there. Promise you won't go in. It hurts."_

_"Okay, I promise. You like that, yeah? You like my fingers rubbing your clit? Do you want me to do this?"_

_"Oh, Ron. I think this is really, really wrong. I—"_

_"Shh. It feels right, yeah? Oh Merlin, you're so... You're so ready for me, Hermione."_

_"Ron, no, really. I thought after we ended things—ah—we decide—oh—that it was for good."_

_"You want this as much as I do. Look. You're soaking. Please, I love you. Let me try. Let's try this. It won't hurt."_

_"No. Please. Ron. I don't want this. Ah! Wait. Wait. Ouch. Stop! Stop! Stop!"_

_"The pain will stop soon. Lav stopped hurting last night after we did it nice and slow."_

_"Lavender? You have something going on with that girl?"_

* * *

Just like that, reality seemed to hit her like a cold wave rushing towards the sea, thunderstruck by the revelation that he had been shagging Lavender Brown, just two months after their final break up. Lavender?

"Get off me unless you want me to fucking hex you!" Hermione screamed, hands trembling; her entire body trembled. His calloused hands released her hips, and she knew they were going to leave bruises in the morning.

Tears streamed down her face, and she could not fathom the expression that painted his. It was a mixture of sickness and guilt. He looked as though he was about to vomit and immediately zipped up his pants, and then ran out the dungeon.

How dirty she felt was impossible to comprehend. Oh so dirty. As defense mechanism, she began ripping out her clothes violently, tore off her tights and screamed as this inexplicable sharp feeling surged whenever she tried to walk or just keep her feet apart. She ripped everything. The lace from her underwear became nothing but limp cloth, her knickers soiled from blood. There was this impulse in her that wanted to set everything on fire. Instead, she slid down to the cold, hard floor, and shook.

Amidst her panic and crying, the single sound of a wand dropping was enough to make everything halt. Her head snapped up to meet Draco Malfoy's bewildered gaze. Nothing could make her move; she sat against the cobble-stoned wall, knees against her chest. The area between her thighs throbbed painfully in a manner so foreign that it made her want to scream even more.

"Leave. Now." Hermione managed to choke out, breathing unsteadily.

The look in his eyes immediately switched from the state of bewilderedness to a cold glare that was not aimed at her, but at the discarded clothes—torn, bloody, discarded clothes, to be exact.

"Just leave, Malfoy. This is nothing for you to see. Unless you enjoy seeing a _mudblood _naked, then by all means, go ahead. Stare."

Still, he did not speak. Because in a split-second, his attention was entirely on me again. It was difficult to tell what exactly was that look on his face. Fright? Anger? Disgust?

"What, are you waiting for me to spread me legs?" She wanted to move, but it hurt. Oh Merlin, it was this enormous feeling of pain and disgust and terror.

"Yes, Granger. I do love a strip show. But not one as messy as this." He cleared his throat, as though snapping out of his trance, then bent down to pick up his wand. His footsteps almost inaudible as he stalked towards her.

The numbness had taken its course. Her entire body seemed paralyzed, unable to feel the temperature that had dropped to six degrees. And as he stalked towards her, removing his coat and draping it over her nakedness, her mind went blank. No such thing as a transition of temperature, no such thing as pain, no such thing as sympathy or pity.

He saw it in her eyes. As though she had just died inside. Their gazes locked, fire against ice. He had never seen anyone look so cold, as though her warm brown eyes had burnt to this color he had never seen on her. And as much as Draco hated her, nobody deserved this. Nobody. Not even a mudblood.

"I'd rather not tonight, though." He said, before muttering a spell. The fire in his eyes the last she had seen of the night.


	2. The Dreadful Has Already Happened

**The Dreadful Has Already Happened**

"Now, when I answer the phone, his lips  
are in the receiver when I sleep, his hair is gathered  
around a familiar face on the pillow; wherever I search  
I find his feet. He is what is left of my life."

—Mark Strand

* * *

"Granger." A stern voice woke Hermione up. She hated mornings, always thought that something about sunlight before noon makes it look unrealistic. Her mouth let out an incomprehensible sound.

_What happened last night? I remember doing my nightly rounds. Merlin, my Transfigurations homework. Shite, I was supposed to report back to Professor McGonagall._

And when her eyes opened, she found myself lying in the most magnificent bed she had ever woken up in. Silk sheets, down pillows, and emerald curtains that blocked sunlight. She turned over and sighed.

"Fucking wake up, Granger." Emerald sheets. That voice.

"Malfoy?" Hermione shot up from bed grabbing the sheets close to her, back painfully erect. Actually, her entire body was painful. She stared down at the nipples protruding from the silk. "What in the world am I doing here, stripped down to absolutely nothing?!" She stared at him, mortified, petrified, and most of all, horrified at the idea that he had seen her naked. That because of bloody-Merlin-knows-what-reason, she had spent the night sleeping here.

"You should be thanking me, Granger. If it were someone else, that spectacle would have made you awfully famous by now—and not because you were Potter's bushy-haired sidekick." He brought the tip of his index finger to his temple.

"What spectacle? What in the world happened last night, Malfoy." She grabbed a pillow and brought it to her chest, making sure no flesh beneath her collarbone was seen.

Draco hesitated as images of a Hermione Granger sat in that dungeon, crying and tearing her clothes out of madness. Part of him wanted so very, very much to tell her after seeing Ron Weasley, scrambling out of the dungeon with a sick look on his face. The idiot did not even see him standing there in the dark, watching them as she shrieked a litany of _no, no, no_. But the Weasley did not listen, he persisted, telling him it would be okay. He persisted, entering her, even when she pleaded him not to, because she knew it would bring an insurmountable amount of pain (especially when that idiot did not seem to even know how to handle a woman during her first).

But what Draco did not understand was why she was unable to remember anything at all. Was she feigning ignorance? Surely she had to be. He only did as much as cast a sleeping charm on the girl. After that, he had levitated her to his room, thanking Salazar Slytherin that his best friend, Blaise, had given him the password to the Head Boy's room. Thankfully, the boy was not there—probably shagging some Ravenclaw that time of night.

"Well, Malfoy? What is going on? You better tell me every single detail or I'll hex you, right here, right now, and shout rape!" Her eyes were on fire as she shouted rape. How could she just spout that word as though she were the best actress in Hogwarts were beyond him.

"Do you really not remember?" He asked her cautiously.

"Why the fuck do you think I'm asking you if I do remember? I had expected a brighter Draco Malfoy."

"Such language, Granger. You must have acquired that when you hit your head awfully hard last night."

"I hit my—what?"

"You fell down the stairs, Granger. I should have known that the trade-off for such impeccable brains is a lack of foot and eye coordination. You must have inherited it from hanging around way too much with a _Weasley._" He gritted his teeth after the name had left his tongue.

"It was an awfully long flight of stairs, Granger. You had scratches all over, healed some of them myself. And you ripped your clothing, too. Obviously, I could not have just left you there. So instead of bringing you to Pomfrey, who might think that I had pushed you down the stairs, I brought you back here. Ah, and I took the liberty of throwing your clothes away. Best buy a new set."

She stared at him thoughtfully, wondering if he was telling her the truth. "So you did not try to take advantage of me in any way sexual?"

"Granger," he stood up from the lounging chair and slid the curtains open, letting sunlight lick her skin. Hermione, of course, being the nocturnal she is, shrieked and covered her eyes. "Do you honestly think I would, given my _breeding_ and my high sense of etiquette, sleep with a knocked-out mudblood? It was excruciating enough taking your clothes off without having to vomit. So don't get any ideas."

"You threw my clothes away? You took my clothes off?"

"Did that fall impair your hearing? Yes, I stripped you—" and upon realizing his grave mistake, "—using magic! So I didn't see you naked! Merlin, Granger, put down that wand this instant!"

"You saw me naked. Stop lying to me or I'll hex you back into a ferret before you can even say mummy!" If she had really only fallen down the stairs, he would have retaliated. But the image of a torn Hermione Granger just kept recurring as though emotionally blackmailing him.

"Fine, Granger. I took off your clothes—not by magic—but with my hands. But I had to, you had scratches and bruises all over. Had I not taken your clothes off, you would be soiling Zabini's sheets but more importantly, I wouldn't be able to heal your ungrateful arse." He had to at least lie about that. In all honesty, there were very few scratches, but that was from her violent fit. If there was one thing that made his blood boil, however, those were the bruises that that Weasley left on her hips.

A pregnant silence filled the room until Hermione finally spoke, "What clothes can I wear, then? Since you threw mine away."

"You can use my robes. Just make sure you wear—" he trailed off as he fumbled through Blaise Zabini's drawers. "This. I knew there would be a nightgown somewhere in this room." He handed a silver nightgown to her, making sure he let his gaze wander to a different direction, and not stare at the naked woman wrapped in silk sheets.

"I am not going to wear one of Blaise's tramps' lingerie!" And in the attempt to throw the piece of clothing at him, it must have slipped her mind that she was completely naked underneath, for she had accidentally let go of the pillow _and_ the blanket, thus revealing her breasts and her stomach to Draco Malfoy.

He, in turn, as he managed to miss her aim, saw this: Hermione Granger in her naked glory, no longer the same girl—or should he say, woman—that he saw writhing in pain and torment last night. It lasted for almost half a minute, as they were both in shock. But never did he think that after seeing Granger last night, where she had been even more exposed than she was now, would he find himself see her as sexually attractive.

Upon realizing that he was actually marveling at the sight, she glared at him as she slowly brought the pillow back towards her chest. "Don't you think you've seen enough, Malfoy?"

"Just put the bloody nightie on and here, you can even wear my robes while you're at it. Please, for the love of Merlin, put some bloody clothes on." _Before I get the hard-on that I might just regret for the rest of my life,_ he wanted to add. He took off his robes and threw the nightgown at her once again and left the room.

* * *

Hermione Granger is not used to being seen in the nude. In fact, Hermione Granger isn't used to being in the nude except for when she showers, and even then, she still feels insecure about herself. This is exactly why most of her time prepping for class is devoted to keeping her teeth clean, her hair tamed, and most importantly, making sure that there is little flesh to be seen from her.

In the course of ten minutes, she had thought of three different ways to cast a memory charm on Draco Malfoy, making sure that he would forget all details of him saving her, healing her, and seeing her naked. She paced around the room barefoot with the nightgown and his robes. How was she going to get out of Blaise's room without being seen? She could try casting a disillusionment charm but she hasn't quite got a hang of that yet. Unless, of course, Malfoy knows how to—but that would just make her look like an idiot, and him, superior.

"What the fuck is taking you so long, Granger? Zabini could be back here anytime soon!" Malfoy hissed from the common room.

_That's right. Blaise Zabini could come back anytime soon and see me in his room with Malfoy. In addition to that, I am wearing one of his women's nightgowns AND I am wearing Malfoy's robes. _"Oh no, oh no, this can't be good." She started to panic.

"I don't care if you're dressed or not, Granger, but you are taking way too long so I am going in there and I am going to drag you out of the Head Boy's room."

And when the door opened, his eyebrows furrowed, expressing disbelief at the fact that she was just standing there, as though waiting for Christmas to come.

"What in the bloody world are you doing? Waiting for the elves to drag you away!? We need to go! Now!"

"I can't be seen with you."

"I bloody well know that, Granger. Please don't take me for an idiot—though I know you take half the population of Hogwarts a bunch of idiots. But seriously, you can leave first and I can leave later since Blaise is fine with me staying here. You, on the other hand, are unwelcome here. So, leave. Now."

"I can't be seen like this."

"Then put on a fucking disillusionment charm! Mordred, has last night done that much damage to your fucking head?"

"Malfoy."

"What?"

"I can't—" she took a deep breath and continued, "properly cast a disillusionment charm."

"If I had more time, Granger, I would make a laughing stock out of you. But for now…" Draco muttered the spell so quickly she almost was unable to understand it.

A warm feeling surged within her, she could feel the charm working and just like that, she took the pattern of the walls as she moved around. She felt a tad mortified, of course, but for now, she felt grateful. Actually, now that she was following Malfoy out of the room, she felt an enormous amount of gratitude regarding other, more important things—for healing her, taking her back here, and not taking advantage of her (or so she hoped he had not).

"Hey Malfoy, I uh—"

"You're welcome, Granger. Now shoo, before the charm wears off and Zabini sees you and your lack of knickers!" He looked at her straight in the eyes, as though he knew exactly where she was. Maybe he did. And suddenly, he smiled.

Hermione felt like she had just watched a baby walk for the first time. That same amount of astonishment overwhelmed her. He smiled the way a child would smile—non-condescending, innocent. It was the kind of smile Harry would give whenever he would see her and Ron during the Christmas break; the kind of smile that shattered her notion of Draco Malfoy being an insufferable prat who did nothing but show his enthusiasm in the misery of others.

He knew she was still there, unmoving, and caught her rather off-guard as whispered just exactly an inch away from her concealed lips, "You're still here, Granger. I can hear you breathing."

And she did.

* * *

**A/N: So I've decided that for this work of fanfiction, I will be using the titles of poems I find fit for every chapter, and start off with an epigraph that I will take from the said work. That way, it does justice to the poets, and it gives me a nice way to start the chapter. Do let me know what you think! Please leave me a review.**

**Love,**

**A.K.**


	3. The End and the Beginning

**The End and the Beginning**

"Those who knew  
what was going on here  
must make way for  
those who know little.  
And less than little.  
And finally as little as nothing."

—Wislawa Szymborska

* * *

It had been two weeks since Hermione left Draco behind in the Head Boy's room. And ever since then, things had been—for the lack of a better term—odd. Pushing aside the fact that Draco Malfoy had seen her completely naked (the thought made her shudder immensely). It seemed that Ron and Lavender had finally become official. This hurt Hermione. In fact, it hurt very, very much. Not because she was still in love with him, but because it seemed as though it was just that easy for him to move on. By moving on, she presumed, would mean him avoiding her at all cost. Nonetheless, she found that it was better this way. After all, maybe they both needed the distance.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had also been doing his best in avoiding Hermione. Of course, it was inevitable for them to cross paths.

"Why if it isn't Potter and the brighter sidekick!" he sneered at them. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson drew closer to him. Theodore Nott, seemed to find it a waste of time to take part of the flock, so he walked on, scoffing at the Golden _Duo_ (since the freckled red-head seemed out of sight).

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry sighed, exhausted from the thought of Quidditch practice and the hundreds of owls that had been tapping on his window ever since the fall of Voldemort. Thank you letters, most of them had been. The rest were just social climbing women who had wanted to have a mug of butterbeer with him, or a glass (or two) of firewhisky to get to "know each other". Ginny had had enough of the pressure. Initially, she had thought that it was a wonderful thing to date Harry Potter. That he was _hers_ and no one could get between them.

In the first few months of school, the publicity was overwhelming. There was this sense of gratitude and respect that the wizarding world had given Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the rest who had been faced with the limelight. After all, these were the children who protected and risked their lives to help Harry Potter fight and defeat Voldemort. After a while, though, the focus was isolated completely on Harry, and the rest of his friends went back to living _normally._ There were people Harry never even thought would ever give him interest. First years girls were giving him chocolate frogs. Even Slytherin students seem to have elevated him to this level of respect (except Draco Malfoy, his posse, and the sons and daughters of Death Eaters that had been forced to go back to school).

With this kind of popularity, it had been awfully difficult for him to focus on his studies, too. He wasn't surprised that Hermione did not fail to meet the deadlines of her homework and ace all her subjects as though nothing had happened, but for some reason, she had even the time to focus on her Head Girl duties. He denied the idea of Hermione messing around with the time-turner again, but that chance wouldn't surprise him either.

"But where's the blubbering idiot you call your best mate? Slobbering over that equally idiotic girl, I presume?" Pansy seemed to be clawing on his arm, as though ushering him to leave. Blaise was remained quiet. He accepted the role of Head Boy, under the condition that he would have to adjust his personality to less vocally-prejudiced.

"Hermione, d'you think you can do rounds alone tonight? I've tons of paperwork regarding this year's upcoming events." Blaise turned to Hermione.

"Alone?! Wouldn't that be dangerous for a woman to walk around in Hogwarts at night?" Draco snapped at Blaise. Pansy seemed at a loss for words, face scrunched up in disgust. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, surprised for the first time in quite a long time. Hermione widened her eyes at Draco, knowing exactly why he had reacted this way (or so she thought).

"What's it to you, mate? Besides, she's done this about a hundred times already." Blaise replied coolly.

"Yeah. Why the hell would you_ care_ about this, Draco?" Pansy almost shrieked at the word "care".

"I—" Draco had to collect his thoughts before speaking any further. One wrong word and something might just slip. He made a mental note to make sure he'd threaten the missing Weasley into avoiding the mudblood for the rest of the school year, or else he'd immediately tell Blaise as to what happened _that_ night. "The lot from our house isn't very pleased with her, are they? And since they subject to you and I, we'd most likely get pinpointed. You can't really scar your name this time around, can you, Zabini?"

"Never thought I'd say this, but he's right, Hermione. You can't go alone. If you want, I can go with you…" said Harry with a thoughtful look.

Hermione cleared her throat, ignoring Pansy's scathing glare and said, "I think I'll manage, Harry. Thank you."

"I think Draco's right, Hermione. I should really assign you an assistant." Draco could not believe what he was hearing. Everybody, even that boy-who-really-should-have-stayed-under-that-cupboard agreed with him. Nevermind Pansy's death grip. And what he found even more incredulous was the first-name basis between Blaise and Hermione. As for him, he calls his best mate Zabini because he finds it a reminder that he, Draco Malfoy, was superior over Blaise Zabini—even though he was the Head Boy. And nobody, except for Pansy, deserved the first-name basis from Draco.

"I'm fine, Blaise. Like you said, I've done it a hundred times—exaggeration included. And Parkinson, unless you want Malfoy to develop a blood clot, I suggest you release his arm. Look at it, it's turning blue." Hermione snorted, looking at Malfoy's arm.

Immediately, Pansy released him, blushing in anger. Draco smirked at the thought of the Head Girl being unable to look at him. Nothing can erase the fact that he had seen her completely naked. And _that_ thought made Hermione mortified but most importantly, she was angry.

"Hermione, I think I've got to be transparent with you about this. Draco is right. I've been hearing a couple of plots for ruthless pranks from some of the Slytherins. And even if I do report them to authority, there is no stopping a Slytherin. A Slytherin always finds a way."

"You make it sound you want me dead, Blaise." Hermione flashed her teeth in annoyance.

"Of course not." Blaise kept a stoic face, not knowing how to react to that.

"Hermione…" Harry said in exasperation. He did not like how this conversation was turning out and he was developing a headache.

"Listen, mudblood, if you prolong this any longer, I will make that wish come true." Pansy snarled.

"Down, girl." Blaise couldn't help but sigh. The conversation was getting out of hand. And it was all because of Draco. He glared at the blonde Slytherin who kept himself preoccupied with restraining Pansy. With a smug look, he announced, "Draco, since you suggested it, why you'll do it. Head Boy's order."

Everyone stared at Blaise Zabini in utter horror—silent horror. Minus Pansy, of course. She shrieked at such a great volume, he swore that every professor in the castle heard her. It was no use hissing at her to quiet down, so Draco decided it would be best if he took the chance to cast a Silencing Charm on the twit.

"Zabini, you can't be serious." Draco turned to Blaise.

"Just a temp just up until we find someone suitable. Rather, someone who Hermione wouldn't want to hex into pieces."

"Don't I have a say in this too? I _am_ the Head Girl, after all."

"Not really, Hermione. It has been decided for your welfare. Now I really must get going. And Draco, mate, do make sure you do as you are told and watch over our favorite Gryffindor while I'm away? Ah. And, try not to kill each other tonight." He nodded at Hermione and stalked off.

Oh what an interesting night it was going to be.

* * *

**A/N: Took me quite a long time to update. So sorry about that. Lots of errands to do, such little time. And here's where the story finally begins. How about I make it up to you with a little preview?**

"Did you honestly think that _that_ night changes things? Your sense of entitlement will never change things, Malfoy. Go ahead and tell the whole bloody school that you saw a mudblood n—" He immediately cut her off by slamming her to the wall, and brought his lips exactly an inch away from hers.

"You should be bloody thankful I hadn't _raped_ you that night, Granger."

**Love,**

**A.K.**


End file.
